By the time my wedding day arrived, my parents were across town in my sister Vicki’s brand-new kitchen, cutting into frosted cupcakes and toasting her housewarming.

Grandma.

“I need you to come over,” she said. Her voice sounded steady, but I heard something beneath it—something protective and annoyed, which in Grandma language usually meant someone had crossed a line.

“What happened?” I asked, already bracing.

“Your mother showed up,” Grandma said. “At my house.”

My throat tightened. “Is she there now?”

“No,” Grandma said. “I sent her away.”

I exhaled hard. “What did she want?”

“She wanted to talk about you,” Grandma replied. “Which is funny, because she didn’t bring up how you’re doing. She brought up how she’s doing.”

Of course she did.

When Rob and I arrived, Grandpa met us at the door. His eyes looked tired. Grandma stood behind him, arms crossed like she was daring someone to try her.

We sat at their kitchen table, the same one where Grandma had helped me fill out scholarship paperwork years ago. The same table where I’d eaten pancakes while my parents took Vicki on trips without me.

Grandma didn’t waste time.

“She came here to recruit me,” Grandma said bluntly. “Can you believe the nerve? She thought if she got me on her side, you’d fold.”

I felt heat rise in my chest. “What did she say?”

Grandpa’s mouth tightened. “She said you’ve been ‘brainwashed’ by Rob’s family and your friends,” he said. “She said your wedding was ‘stolen’ from her.”

Grandma snorted. “Stolen. Like it was her event.”

My hands clenched. “Did she mention Vicki?”

Grandma’s expression hardened. “She said Vicki is ‘finally willing to forgive you.’”

I laughed once, sharp. “Forgive me for what? Not inviting her? Protecting myself?”